(found in the clutches of scarred hands, scattered with dandelion petals and dusty pollen)
I must be a monster. Is that why you are running?
Certainly I never dreamed myself to be a human being. But I thought the strength, the stubbornness, the self-involvedness and the determination to achieve were characteristics of my heroism rather than my monstrousness.
I never thought myself to be scary, certainly not so scary as to deserve to watch a beloved person sprint and never look back. But, still, I must be a monster.
I don’t know. I don’t believe. I do not ever understand. I worked my hardest. I lost.
I remember the moment when the clouds parted and the rain stopped and the young girl skipped through a field of flowers with a bonnet half-covering her chestnut hair. I remember that feeling even if I haven’t felt it in so long.
I have long-feared, always known, that this spot was my peak and perhaps your nadir. So I cannot leave it. I just cannot. I wish we could have stayed.
But you may go. Hide your face and save yourself. I must stay here. Here is where I can at least remember the warmth of the sunshine even if the sun itself is hidden far behind the clouds. I have the band still around my wrist, flowers folded loosely together. I will remember. I cannot leave. The memories are so warm.